Ok. So, I read a lot. I wanted to share a story from a book I finished yesterday. Allegra Goodman, who is well known for her work, Kaatterskills Falls, authored this unusual book entitled, Paradise Park. Sharon, the protagonist is a lost soul. From the get go, Sharon is a contra dancer at MIT who dances all the way to Oahu, Hawaii to follow her much older and pedantic boyfriend, Gary. Sharon is barely 20.

20 years elapse. During those years, Sharon is excommunicated from her family in Brookline, she works with a team of ornithologists on a deserted island off of Oahu, does drugs, works on a pot farm for several years, becomes a born again Christian, drops acid, her cat gets feline AIDS, wears terrible clothes and eventually finds herself committing her life to Orthodox Judaism.

The beauty in this novel is not all of the interesting vignettes; rather the whole of the story which depicts a young woman evolve into a deeply spiritual woman. One of Sharon’s Judaism teachers says about “modern women” (as opposed to traditional ones),

“That lifestyle is mobility, and the so called women’s liberation. These are the two big metziyas being offered to women, they should have the chance to go  wherever they want, and do whatever they want!

But, the question is, once you buy this lifestyle, liberation, what do you do get in the long term? To have every option open and to drift this way and that? Is this liberty? To keep every option open and never have to commit to anything? Wonderful. Women and men can move from one shallow relationship to another, and from one fly-by-night occupation to the next.  You are sitting here today, because…you have decided maybe to look more critically at how you spend your time.”

I felt sad reading this book because I completely resonate with Sharon’s circuitous path to finding herself. Now, before you run off and scream, “Amanda’s in a cult,” I ask you to sit still.

Yesterday, while texting a friend, this friend told me the friendship was over. My energy gave off a “bad impression.” Fin. No explanation, no understanding and I was removed from her FB, presumably phone book and her life. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. However, given that she works 9-5, has children and real life responsibilities, my “namby-pamby” life as a writer and an adrenline junkie was noticeably wearing thin on her. I found myself censoring what I did during the day and other sundries because I feared her reprisal. Yet, now without this friend, I thank god for this chance to reflect more seriously on what should I be doing in this world.

Much like Sharon, I have been a truth seeker a la Agent Mulder for my whole life. When something bored me, I left. I remember dreaming at my summer camp in the Berkshires that I would have an interesting life. And, the universe delivered. However, this whole year of blogging and fitness and trying to fit a square peg into a rectangle, has lead me to the conclusion, that focus in ones life and spirituality may not be devil in disguise.

My friend Lisa and I discussed the precursor to the book The Secret, after I unceremoniously sobbed about losing a friend over text. Ester and Jerry Hicks write and teach:

“… that life is supposed to be fun. They say that is what you intended before you got here.They teach that you can be, do, or have anything you want.They say YOU create your own reality and the universe is simply reflecting back to you the essence of how you’re feeling about it!Joseph Campbell said, “Follow your bliss.” Abraham shows you where you left your compass.Your compass? Your emotions.”

So, I love Joseph Campbell even though its rumored he was a Nazi sympathizer. And, unfortunately, Oprah, though I love the girl, has adopted his phrase: Follow your bliss.

Yet, what stands out to me is: YOU create your own reality and the universe is simply reflecting back to you the essence of how you’re feeling about it!

Film ends. Fox deflates.

I am in stupor.

We flip on TV to zone out to House Wives of New Jersey for some table flipping, tying off, face shaving fun. And, like magic, a commercial appears:

I thought my brain had been scrubbed.

An editorial is moot.

Simply allow me to present some real facts about this “gym.”

Their web page header reads: Have Sex With The Lights On.

From their site: A “chubby” is not necessarily someone with a spare tire or thunder thighs, it’s an unmotivated, lazy slob who wants to blame everybody else but themselves for their shortcomings. Anti-Gym turns chubbies into champions, breaking through the victim mindset to teach effort and self-accountability as the way to a healthy body and great lifestyle. We have many clients who are overweight at first, but they cease to be chubbies the moment they decide to do something about it.

The key to changing bad habits is developing healthy ones, and our Lifestyle Consultants stand behind you every step of the way offering coaching and encouragement. We are there for you even when you don’t want us – 6 AM wakeup calls, extra cardio for that pizza you accidentally inhaled, public ridicule when you are slacking. You don’t have a “thyroid problem”, you just need to MENTALCIZE while you exercise.

(Amanda back for a second. When was MENTALCIZE added to the OED?)

Enter stage left, more trenchant antigym rhetoric:
Where health clubs want to f**k you over and keep you in the dark, Anti-Gym dares its clients
to have sex with the lights on.
Ok. One editorial. NASA will not be missing the staff of theantigym.com.

So, as the fitness story progresses, Mariana is now dragging me to any and all classes at her new gym in San Diego. We have managed to evade gym staff and get multiple free passes for me. One day I wear glasses, the other day I put on a Rastafarian cap. And, thank god, these classes were free.

Enter stage left, step class for beginners. It is Friday night, 5:30 p.m. and people are pouring into a studio built for approximately your high school glee club. These women have written on their faces: THIS IS MY LAST CHANCE WORKOUT BEFORE THE WEEKEND. AND, MARTINIS, HERE MAMA COMES! Now, I cannot divulge the name of the studio but we are in a chichi gym (but of course darling). The median age of steppers in 55 and to my utter surprise they are wearing tennis whites! to class. Now, I on the other hand am wearing George Norman funky golf shorts ($10 at TJ Maxx) and a gray t shirt that reads “I am a hunter gather.”  My white legs look like pristine sequoia trees.

I know this class is going to suck first when the childlike 4′10 teacher arrives in scrunchie socks and a SWEATSHIRT. But, I am not fully hating the class until the teacher speaks in her bird like voice. “Oh, fiddle sticks! This is a new stereo! Can anyone help me fix it?” Having been in the class yesterday, I know the machine works and I know from working at a Comedy Club how to “fix” it. But, I don’t. Why? Because one I do not want to do step, and two this woman has already plucked my elitist strings. SOOOOOOO, because instructor did not know how to slow down music, we did a 60 minute class in 35 minutes. AM I TAKING A CRAZY PILL??? We moved mach 10 because sweatshirt wearing instructor did not know how to use the stereo that was approximately as difficult as using a Texas A & M Speak N’ Spell.

About the class: WHEN THE HELL IS DOING THE CHARLESTOWNE ON A PLASTIC STEP GOING TO BENEFIT YOU IN REAL LIFE? WHEN IS PIROUETTING AROUND A PLASTIC STEP GOING TO ACTUALLY BE A MOVEMENT YOU NEED TO USE WHEN YOU ARE IN YOUR 80′S.

It is obvious that you can lose weight if attending this kind of class but fuck! Why would you? The instructor with her parakeet like voice looks over to me once or twice and states, “Boy, looks like you are working hard?!?” And, that made me feel like the YETI.

I started writing this blog last August where I challenged myself to become an elite athlete in a year. Now, as I am a real person, with clinical ADHD, I should have known that such an ambitious proclamation would lead to disaster. Yet, while I have struggled profoundly with consistency, diet and generally filling my life with greater order, I can state that as many times as I have fallen, I have always jumped back up and thrown myself into my fitness challenge. This time, however, I would like to go on the record that while I still want to be an elite athlete, I think I am going to give myself another 4 years.

As you know, I have transplanted myself in La Jolla with LifeAxRx and CrossFit CounterCulutre. And, I have not been in the gym for 10 days. I have one billion excuses but they are completely irrelevant. But, I will say, Marcus, my coach, instilled something in me a few weeks ago that for the first time really stuck. Well, two things actually. First, Marcus told me I would never dissappoint him; if I didnt show up to classes, I would disappoint myself. Secondly, Marcus truly is the first trainer who said outright: CrossFit is great. However, there is more to fitness and CrossFit than the WOD’s. Go out and pursue sports, physical activity that you will ENJOY.

Which brings me to ZUMBA.

“The Zumba® program fuses hypnotic Latin rhythms and easy-to-follow moves to create a one-of-a-kind fitness program that will blow you away.The routines feature interval training sessions where fast and slow rhythms and resistance training are combined to tone and sculpt your body while burning fat.”

Zumba is basically a wild dance class where you can burn anywhere between 500 to 1000 calories. I had done Zumba in Scituate with a friend where we got our asses shredded but I loved it. I felt like a Queen and was able to live out my wildest “Glee” fantasies. Now, last night was a different story. My Argentine friend, Mariana (who through Kismet is living in La Jolla) and I made a pact to beat the shit out of each other if we do not hold each other accountable for doing one fitness activity each day. So, as we do not want to beat the shit out of each other, the first day of our sisterly pact, I elected a Zumba class in our area. And, man, it rocked!!!

So, yeah, the class was tough and of course, I know feel ready for Dancing With The Stars (Niecy Nash, I was on your side and your jiggly parts!). However, the class turned into an 1980’s dance off. The class was almost equally divided between Latinas and Blacks. I, completely serious, was the only white girl in class. And, there were two very pregnant women taking the class back to back.

Now, this is not a story about race or culture. Perhaps, it is more of a West Side Story cadence.  Back in NY or Boston, in any group class, there is traditional order. An instructor speaks, you move, end of story. In this magical class, while we followed the teacher, every couple of minutes one woman would go to the front of the class (UNINVITED) and freestyle dance. Now, I am not taking lame freestyle, I am talking freestyle that would make you weep it was so perfect and replete with passion and history. And, that superstar would shout out, “DO YOU HEAR ME LADIES?!?” And, the class roared back; myself included. Well, no sooner would that person, file back into line, that someone else on the other side of the room, stood next to the instructor and did a futuristic salsa with more individual steps than humanly possible and command: CAN YOU HANDLE THE TRUTH? Again, we roared that we could! And, this match volleyed back and forth for an hour.

I do not know what they pumped into the area of that ZUMBA studio but damn it was exciting. The best part of the evening was our final hip hop dance to MC HAMMER time! I was spinning, pumping my chest, throwing shoulders backs and singing that song like it was my personal anthem. All I was missing was the gold parachute pants.

When I initially wrote the post These Boots were made for CrossFitting… as deemed by CF coaches, I was in contact with Micah Vandegrift from Florida at Father Andrew’s Hot Body Gym. He responded to an inquiry I made on Twitter in mid April. The inquiry asked the CrossFit community at large whether or not they preferred to run with shoes or without  shoes.

Here is Vandegrift’s insightful endorsement for running barefoot:

I have been Crossfitting for almost a year now. Over the course of that time, I have drastically altered my diet, sleep habits, posture and general ways of life. One of the changes that has made a huge difference has been the choice to workout barefoot. In our small gym community, we read a lot of Crossfit/exercise blogs and literature, searching for the best ways to perform at the highest capacity, and losing the shoes has been one we generally agree on.

Practically for me, I can physically tell a huge difference in my balance during heavy lifts, momentum in gymnastic moves, and overall enjoyment of the workout experience when I am barefoot. My core stability is not limited by the padding and cushioning of my shoes, and therefore I really feel like I get a better sense of my physical limitations/extremes when barefoot.

The only time I still wear shoes if for long distance running, and simply because my feet are not yet used to terrain, although I plan to make that adjustment over time. There is something extraordinarily primal about feeling the force of gravity and 205 lbs pushing your heels into the concrete while dead lifting. There is also the feeling of utter rebellion against the “fitness industry” in saying “no, I will not buy those $75 dollar cross-trainers because I believe that the human body works better when allowed to adapt and adjust to the earth and weight and force on its own terms.”

For more on Micah’s primal running and thoughts on CrossFit, hit up his blog! -

My question to Micah is do you also endorse Pose Running Method? And, more importantly, what do you say to people who fear for their safety when ambling barefoot around heavy weights?

Do you run barefoot? How has this helped you CrossFit?

The WOD as RX’d included:

5000 lbs about the head (the weight had to go from ground to overheard press)

1000 meter run

40 burpee box jumps

100 Kettle Bell swing (55/35)

I was prescribed 2000 lbs above my head, the run, box jumps and 50 swings. Each of the class members had 10 minutes to break this work out down into manageable pieces. Marcus was looking for completion at the 20 minute mark and till that point only one CrossFit Counter Culture soldier did sub 20.

With a piece of hot pink chalk I went to work on the rubber floor. I looked like Matt Damon from “Good Will Hunting” writing as complex an equation for sucess as he did discrete mathematics. I decided there was NO WAY in this Sunny wonderland, that I was leaving that piece of nastiness until the end. I broke down the rest of the workout accordingly:

60 Clean and Jerks, 50 lbs-6 rounds 10 reps

40 burpee box jumps: 4 rounds, 10 burpee jumps

50 kettlebell swings: 5 rounds, 10 swings

So, with a proof that Pythagoras would have emulated. I started and completed my run. Then my strategy while lovely on paper, took another form. I wanted to go in the order I adumbrated but the reality was my body not mind dictated the rest. It was quite remarkable. I did 10 clean and jerks, then went to round of burpees and swings. And, something clicked, I have noted (from my ample CrossFit diary) that for some reason, heavy lifting I always grind out and complete with more energy and quickness than any other drills. So, I focused on eliminating the burpees and swings by alternating. With those complete I was at the 18 minute mark.

Slowly but surely with a load of sailor swearing, I completed my 2000 lbs above the head.

Strategy is in short crucial in performing WODS. My dad, several years ago, gave me a placard that reads, “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” Given the intensity and heavy loads of a WOD, I think having a personal strategy and having a coach generously encourage you to have one, allows the burgeoning or competitive athlete to be more mindful about their performance and ultimately compete for PRs.

I would initially report that I think my first dedicated week to a strict Paleo diet and CrossFitting almost everyday was an uber success. The reality though is that while successful on some fronts, I have a lot of work ahead of me. As bandied about in previous posts, changing eating and activity  habits are not an overnight decision nor an overnight success. Allow me to first speak about the Paleo diet.

And, before anyone starts commenting on the rigors and strictness of the Paleo diet, keep in my mind, I chose this path. Willingly. Since last Thursday, in agreement with my coach, Marcus, I embarked on a strict paleo diet which means the following: I eat nothing that in theory I could not hunt or gather. Simply, I eat fruits, vegetables, meat, nuts, seeds and drink water. If anything comes in a package, it does not enter my mouth.

My main nemesis was removing diet soda from diet. And, I ain’t goin to lie. I fantasized about putting my soup coolers on the lips of a frosty silver can of that beverage. Yet, I persevered. Did I have headaches? Yes? Did I cry? Probably. Did I think Marcus was tough on that front? Absolutely.  However, when all is said in done, after having one can a week later (last night), I will be damned that the Diet Coke wreaked havoc on my stomach. Not only did I feel high with the burst of sugar, my Argentine friend, Mariana will attest to this, the carbonation literally burnt my throat. And, today, I feel like shit.

I texted my Marcus to reveal my iniquity and true to his form, he replied succinctly, “I cannot teach you will power.”  Damn.

Now, will power is a funny thing when you discuss changing your health habits. I am not of the mindset that my will power was weak and I am not sure will power is all that makes a change in life successful. Strangely, I do think that I could have resisted drinking soda last night. I simply felt it wouldn’t make a difference in how I felt. But, the devil is in the details. It is the little decisions that snowball into bigger decisions and potentially lead to lackadaisical habits and decisions.

I neither feel like a failure or success that week one was not perfection. It was week one. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. And many of my steps were forward moving.

As regards, the workouts, Marcus wanted me in every day at 9:00 a.m. I made it to CrossFit Counter Culture at 9 a.m. promptly only one day. The other days ranged in time. I felt that as long as I got in and did the workout, that was good enough. However, Marcus didn’t agree. And, I will be damned my Ryan Phillippe looking coach (though intensely more likable than the actor) would have nothing of it. 9:00 a.m. is the time we begin. I cannot afford to slide. I have slid this entire year waking up when I want to, eating whatever and not  holding myself accountable and that, my friends, did not get me very far. Somehow, Marcus’ commitment to a schedule and a strict eating plan, suddenly appeared in technicolor. Holding oneself accountable to a schedule and a routine is not about being OCD; its about showing some heartfelt respect to your body and your person.

Its rare that I get preachy. But, what I learned from last week was the following: I am cool, undoubtedly, however, I am not living the best life I could. I say this because for most of the week, when I completed a workout and ate clean foods, I felt a pride that I have experienced in a long time. I felt enormously hopeful that I had taken a bit of control of my life.

So, while this is not a cautionary tale (its way subjective), some times rules shouldn’t be broken.

When the Red Sox broke the 81 year drought and won the World Series in 2004, Johnny Damon was the shiz in Boston. An errant sweep of hair across his eyes in center field would make women (and men) swoon.

If you are at all familiar with Boston as a sport’s town, you must know one thing. Boston does not have a religion. Boston sports are religion. And, Damon inspired an off shoot of the “Jesus is my Homeboy” t shirt with Damon in place of you know who.

Damon’s divinity was called into question with this popular adage that also appeared during the 2004 season: Damon looks like Jesus but throws like Mary.

Is lifting like a girl a bad thing?  Well, in Damon’s case, we know his arm stinks. In CrossFit and LifeAsRx’d, lifting like a girl is a Herculean task not fit for the weak, weary or witless.

Yesterday, Marcus taught me the nuts and bolts of the rack position. I like to call Marcus, Mr. Miyagi. Marcus spares no detail when teaching a capable student. He has the countenance of a Ryan Phillipe (but not with a clouded brow) and the singular presence and sagacity of Miyagi.

Marcus does not want you to mimic him then rush off and load the bar with enormous weight. Forget that. I mean seriously FORGET THAT. You get a PVC pipe. You practice a grip until it is a fluid extension of your very existence. Yesterday was the standard rack grip. Application is secondary to knowledge. Wax on. Wax off.

Oh, and I am not Ralph Macchio.

And, I covet that damn fine t shirt cuz I lift like a girl.

And, wow, what a difference 3000 miles makes!

So, all I am going to say is that when life gets overwhelming. Start over. Hit the return key. Hit the delete key. Just give yourself permission to step out of the quagmire, assess your decisions and move.

I am.

And, start with elements.  I know one billion have been quoted about how to make long lasting healthy changes. The first essential component is to make a small, achievable goal. Most people fall into the fitness blues in late January, February because they make this grandiloquent statements for their New Years’ Resolution. For example, I am going to be a world class athlete in a few months. (Guilty!) Inevitably, melancholy will set in when the universe dictates, as it always does, that life is a bitch and nothing worth achieving is a study in quickness or breaking the time space continuum.

Today, Marcus and I incorporated element positions into a modified WOD. I did 5 rounds of time of 5 dead lifts, 5 overhead squats, 5 box jumps and 5 push ups. And, I fisticuff double dog dare anyone to tell me that the overhead squat (done with aplomb) is not the most technical and challenging fitness movement. The overhead squat in layman’s terms is a squat combined with an overhead press. What I learned from Marcus was the import of activated shoulders, shrug those babies, keeping the bar over your center of gravity and keep your armpits pressed out. Now, I do not like the word armpits. It sounds pedestrian. But, I will be damned, facing your armpits out with locked shoulders shifted my comfort level to more comfortable.

On a different note, I am writing from CrossFit Counter Culture, my home base for a bit. Now, last year at this time, I was busting my ass to get into a Manhattan office by 9 a.m. to work in a fevered pitch media milieu. The office was in Tribeca and designed by some famous green architect. Free soda, snacks and a guaranteed ulcer. I wore mismatched Eileen Fisher outfits because nothing else fit, I blew money on too many taxis because I overslept. I overslept because I was over medicated. I was over medicated because I felt I needed to be more alert at work.

A year later, I am in a warehouse in Encinitas, CA. There are three dogs always on supervisory duty chasing bad dreams away: Daisy, Cash and Duke. Cash, however, is my man, who helps me blog.

And, sometimes people reappear.

I am frantically packing for a 5 p.m. flight to Long Beach, CA, where starting on Monday I will be working with SitesAsRX.com and LifeasRx.com.

In addition to working as a writer for this hip website cum apparel marvel, I will be engaged in my own personal boot camp at CrossFit Counter Culture under the primary tutelage of Marcus Dedina.

I am going to be completely frank. I am scared. I have had a long winter and fallen off the horse more times than Ben Afflect at the Foxy Ladies in Providence.

To be perfectly frank, I stopped exercising completely over two months ago. A deep hibernation ensued. This was compounded by a poor diet of eating very little, culminating in two doctor’s visits for malnutrition.

The buck stops here.

I am too good looking to be fat and unhealthy. (Thanks for quote Charles Barkley)